


Nail Polish

by Conspiracy



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, M/M, generation of murderers, genital removal (only implied though no descriptions or anything), i wrote thiis a while back but never posted it here, take my shitty aokise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 06:20:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1929933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Conspiracy/pseuds/Conspiracy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kise paints Aomines nails. <br/>Written at my wonderful kohais request</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nail Polish

"Aominecchi, sit still!" Kise whined, squeezing the tan hand he held in his own in a bound to fail attempt to keep it from moving. 

"Why the hell should I?" came the gruff reply, and the hand in Kise's own shifted just enough for him to miss the nail he had been trying to paint. 

Golden eyes narrowed and a full set of lips fell into a pout. This was a scene that happened often enough to be called routine; Aomine ended up in Kises' trophy room more often than not (The rest of the group collectively called it the "Dick Room" -- due to the human genitalia that lined the various shelves along the walls, all fruits of Kises' own labor since he had come to work here -- and saw it as only fitting that Aomine should be sent there whenever he did something stupid, being a 'dick' himself), and the blonde took it upon himself to even further beautify his already-beautiful co-worker.

He was never very cooperative about it, though, as evidenced by how many times he had had to fix mistakes on his other hand. 

Even when the color he had chosen had been so hard to find( A cobalt blue that so effortlessly matched the bluenettes gorgeous piercing eyes; he had looked for hours to find just the right shade, sure that he would be at least a little appreciative), he just didn't care. 

What a meanie. 

"I'm just trying to make you pretty, Aominecchi." He drew out the syllables of his name, pout still firmly in place. 

"Thought I was already pretty?" There was that smirk, the one that the blonde was sure he would walk to the ends of the Earth to see again, if he had to. 

"Prettier, then." He smiled back at him, taking his moment of slight distraction to effortlessly color in another nail. 

God, he thought it should be illegal for anyone to look like Aomine; with that dark tan and those and blue eyes and all that toned muscle, like he fell right out of some particularly decadent portion of Heaven. It drove him absolutely crazy. 

Sometimes he searched out guys that looked like him to kill, that had the same body or that same smirk or that talked the same way, just to see what it might be like, but he was sure that he would enjoy the real thing a lot more.

Not that it was something he would ever get to test, mostly because he'd probably lose his job. Not that he particularly needed it, considering he still did modeling gigs on the side, but he did /like/ this job. 

That, and he thought he would probably miss having him around, after a while. 

"You gettin' off to this or somethin'?" There was a certain teasing tone in his voice, a note as if he already knew what the answer was, but he did still his hand, if only just a little, as he usually did whenever Kise pouted enough. 

"So what if I am?" he laughed, but didn't remove his focus from the appendage he still held, expertly filling in the last few nails with the striking blue color -- it really did leave quite the impression -- and blowing on them gently, to speed up the drying process a little. 

"That's a little unfair, ain't it, then? Why are you the only one gettin' off?" 

"Oh, how rude of me," he purred in a fashion that could only be called overly dramatic, blowing on the fingernails of the hand he held a final time before he released it, changing his position so he was straddling his waist and pushing him back against the corner he sat in, leaning in so his hot breaths just barely caressed his ear as he spoke, "Do you want me to get you off.....Daiki?" 

The arms that wrapped themselves around his waist and the mouth that attacked his neck were answer enough for him.

It wasn't the first time, and it wouldn't be the last, but it didn't mean he wouldn't revel in it like he always did, and he could care less if the whole house heard them.


End file.
